


Pile of Wonders

by ThirstyForRed



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Forgotten Realms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 04:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20269978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirstyForRed/pseuds/ThirstyForRed
Summary: a place to dump snippets related to DND campaign I'm currently playing in, like a backstory or some drabble





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a backstory of my wood elf horizon walker, Namrevlis I shared with the rest of players. I never planned for it to be super clear, but there's enough info that with reading even only bits of the elven chapter in Mordenkainen's Tome of Foes you can get the idea what the hell is going on.  
[anyway I post it mainly to archive it :p]

The Green Isle elves never really dream. They meditate, reminiscing on memories of the past. Elders 'dream' about their youth and young see their past lives. Cleric of Labelas Enoreth smiles kindly and says, “Little lynx, what your keen eyes saw last night?” And then, never interrupting, listens to the chaotic story of a warrior in jagged black armor, speeding her horse, leading the wild hunt. Listens about her red braid and a furious glare. How easily she cut through enemy lines. Another cleric, Sehanine's, smiles, for some reason her eyes a bit watery, she says:

“If you really wish to become like the lady from your dreams, maybe you should consider following your father's footsteps.”

* * *

They're deep in the forest, but are hardly scared, knowing that officers still observe them. That it is more a make-believe than a real long-range patrol. Yet, it is a Fey's forest - unpredictable and wild. "Your parents should call you Squirrel if they really wanted to name a child after an animal," says a young soldier. "You’re already ginger, and now turns out, you're pretty good at climbing trees. Missed opportunity." He looks up the branches, seeing glowing eyes and a broad smile. "I mean, lynx are just asshole cats. For half of the year, they're not even red - they're grey!" But the elf hiding in the canopy turns around to the sound of rustling. Shots three arrows in short succession and jump down, chasing howls of hurt game. Another solder laughs softly and says to her fellow, still standing with his mouth agape:

"I think it actually fits. Lynxes are hunters, not prey."

* * *

Vherithas means ‘honesty’, but she knows how to lie - even to the loved ones. She does this by standing in front of her youngest and saying that she understands everything. Her intentions aren't malicious, and her voice is convincing and sweet like honey. Maybe, just maybe, even if it still feels like one, it’s not a lie. She holds her child's face in both hands and smiles knowingly. "I know enough Sylvan to guess the meaning of your new name, my dearest. I just wonder what the future holds for you," she says. But there's no reason to worry - every growing to adulthood elf chooses their new name - reinvents themselves. And Vherithas know this, she did the very same thing. She plants the last kiss on her child's forehead and says:

"You are too young to believe Eladrin’s words. To bear yourself for winter that will come, but with time."

* * *

Invaerne translates to 'of winter'. That doesn't mean he is cold and uncaring - he's radiant like snow on marbles in Corellions temple. He can be as hard as ice on the far northern edges of the island. Of course, he's older, he doesn't exactly look like this, but he's - he lived almost twice as much as Lyn- Namrevlis. Probably that's why he thinks he should muster as much gravitas as possible. That he should put a heavy, grounding hand on his younger sibling's shoulder, and say:

“I know you will come back. Now, you need time, to let yourself find a new path. Don't worry if it will take you decades - eventually, you will be back. It's in the stars. In our blood and souls. Our father fought, I fight, and I know for a fact that you love it too. You will come back.”

* * *

Now her name is Delsingove - hopefull - but everyone still calls her Mona. She doesn't care, over 150 years old, but as happy as she was in her 50s. They sit side by side in the open window, looking at the city colored by one of the longest dawns this isle saw. It lasts for two weeks now, perfectly pink and orangish, like a magical curse. Only the one that doesn't make anyone miserable, one of the gifts that you send your thanks for to the Fey. Mona smiles looking at the clouds, and that means she loves every second of this. "Knowing you now, it's hysterical to think that not so long ago you were a squad leader," she laughs and shoves handfull of sunflowers seeds in Namrevlis' palm. And she says:

"But since you're so restless in the city, I think I should introduce you to one of my friends. Actually, it could be quite beneficial for both of you. And I would finally have some rest without you two whiners."

* * *

His name is a reference to an obscure Sylvain poem about setting sun and snakes. Sometimes Namrevlis teases him about it, even if her own name is just as odd. But now they lay together, in the dry and cold bathtub because it's summer and it's too hot to care about anything. They lay in papers, it looks almost like snow, in notes about ruined cities, in maps of forgotten lands. He taps the tuning fork on the basin, listening to single note it makes. The clear C. Smiles as if he just solved one of the greatest mysteries of the world. So pleased with himself, so confident. He grabs one of the pages, the one with Hale'Teralas - Misty Towers - written in big, bold letters, and smiles, both sharply and warm. He says softly:

"I know you already made up your mind. That you will travel with me even to the Abyss. But I still want to sweeten the deal - I will give you a ring."

* * *

The Green Isle is truly dead here. Elves will never come back, not when they already moved on and made their home. That's why Namrevlis doesn't stop dwarf and his people from scavenging whatever they can. It's all trash anyway. She stands on the deck of a ship, watching island disappearing behind waves, clouds, and horizon, thinking about her next steps. Brogo stands at her elbow, impatient, asking where she wants to be dropped. Moonshae Isles, Luscan, Neverwinter, Waterdeep - as if these names will tell her anything. She takes a big swing from his waterskin, always filled with wine, and thinks “Who cares at this point?”. But at loud she says:

"I only heard bits about the Sword Coast. It's not exactly my course, but any big city will do."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, while the previous one was sent to all players - this one was the very first thing I showed our DM.

For an alien plane, Shadowfell was plain, gray and just boring. It was also a dangerous, unforgiving place, with forgotten monstrosities just waiting for unsuspecting wanderers. Not that the Plane of Shadows had that many visitors.  But there they were, small-ish group of elves, all sneaking slowly to a cluster of ancient stones at the top of a hill. A seemingly chaotic array of rocks under the watchful eye turned out to be the ruins. Columns, arcades and portals, all broken and shattered.  In the front was their guide, elven woman, in the brown hood and cloak almost indistinguishable from the subsoil. She stopped by one of the bigger rocks, on the edge of the hill, no further than 40 feet from the inner, more preserved circle of ruins. After a minute or two, she motioned to her companions, still mid-way, and started climbing down to meet with them.

“Bachelor Namrevlis.” Tall and slender, male elf, nodded at her. 

“Doctor Nithral.” She replied with a smile, taking her hood off and shrugging thick, ginger braid from her shoulder to the back. “I think we found our “digging site”, but…”

“I do love when you motion unnecessary citation marks, but please don’t say we have to go around a dragon.”

“You wish. Nah, it’s just giant ass sleeping wyrm. There’re marks of his burrowing all over the place. But portal foundations look untouched, so with your magic fingers we should be able to open it again.”

Now Nithral laughed, taking her hands in his and squeezing them tightly. “And with that, we’ll become the explorers of Lost City of Hale’Teralas.”

“The very same one that got sucked by into sort of demiplane.”

One of the other elves in the group cleared his throat. Like the rest of the expedition, he wore traveling clothes, not armor, and even with a short sword at the hip, was more of an academic than an actual adventurer.

“What the plan then? Can we sneak around this thing or do we have to fight it?”

“Oh, we definitely fight. The thing is attracted by noises and tremors, and you know that with open portals there’s plenty of both.” Answered Namrevlis, while setting her backpack down and rummaging through it. “I say, we take a few minutes rest, and then just go for it.”

“You heard Nam, keep quiet and get ready,” Nithral commanded and sat next to the other elf. Still smiling slightly and pulling out an apple from his own backpack. “And what are you looking for exactly?”

“A healing potion.”

“You think you're going to need it?” He asked, brow furrowed and uncertainty in his voice.

“No. But you are squishy as the Nine Hells, so it’s better if I have it on hand.” Nam raised the head to look at him, her amber eyes glowing with mischief.

“Of course, Hells - well known for being “squishy”.”

She just mouthed ‘ _ smartass _ ’ and focused back on her search.

“I know it’s not a place nor time for this, but I wanted to ask you something…” He started, only a bit nervously.

“Hmm?”

“The ring. The one I gave you right before expedition? I thought you forgot, so I packed it. It should be in your backpack.”

“Ring? Oh, you mean the one I slipped the other day back into  _ your  _ backpack?”

“You did?..” Nithral sighed “Well, I guess that answers my question.”

“You know, I just didn’t wanna lose it.”

Finally finding a small bottle of red liquid, she set it aside. Now with her whole attention on him, Nithral smiled again.

“Apparently one of our specialists has a lawyer background, they could officiate it right now. It would take 5 minutes, maybe less.”

“You, me, our archeologist group, giant wyrm, and whole darkness of Shadowfell… Who would thought that you’re such a romantic soul, Nithral?”

He smiled softly only to turn eyes from her, at least for a second.

“I-I’m sorry… I really shouldn’t start this conversation now. Just, once we get back with our findings, could you then give me a clear answer? Even if it would be ‘no’, just tell me.”

“Me telling you ‘no’ would be very… unfortunate. Especially considering that I already ordered the dress.”

“... You did  _ what _ ?”

“Yeah... Do you remember, when we’re finishing packing for the expedition, I went to…”

“Buy extra paper, but you came back only with cookies? I knew you were planning something! You're an awful liar.”

Nam smiled gleefully and mouthed ‘fuck you’, before kissing him on the lips.

“So, what the dress looks like?”

“Well, you will have to wait to see me in it… But I can tell you now, that it looks  _ sickening _ …”

Once the whole group was ready they climbed the hill, slowly and stealthy, they reached the inner circle of ruins. Here, under a thin layer of dust and dark sand, were crocked mosaics depicting wide-open gates. 

Namrevlis pulled out her sword and motioned to rest to do the same. Nithral and two other elves moved in front of two last standing columns, previous probably connected, creating one archway, and with closed eyes, touched its stones.

Sparkles of magic raised from the ground and surrounding them flew towards the ruin, stopping in mid-air between columns and creating archway above them. The surface of portal glowed with bright light, vibrating from within. With every wave reaching stone barriers portal send electric charges, in the ground, sky, to the sides, which cut the air with loud cracks.

And that’s when Purple Worm appeared. It busted from the ground right on the periphery of the stone circle and howled horrifyingly, falling on the group of elven archeologists. Swallowing some of them and piercing others with its tail stinger. Those who dodged initial attacks tried to harm Worm with arrows, blades and magical flames, but monstrosity seemed to be only enraged by their efforts.

Nithral and others were still trying to stabilize portal which surface was now pulsating way faster, shooting electricity everywhere, painfully hitting both allies and enemy. Finally, it reached its peak and created a burst of a thunderous wave, knocking elves and sending them flying nearer Worm, who trashed hurt, rolling over them.

Namrevlis appeared by her partner's side, helping him to his feet.

“It’s fucking  _ bad _ . Will the gate still open?” She asked pointing at the still glowing and vibrating portal.

“It should with the next wave. But we have to be fast.”

Namrevlis nodded and with one eye kept on momentarily confused Worm she started moving towards the portal. The other elf pulled out his own longsword and as lightly as she tagged along.

This time they were ready for blasting wave of wind and thunder energy, and even though it sent them a few feet back, they were still standing and ready to run. And they were both naturally fast, running head to head towards now smooth and transparent as glass surface of the portal. Nithral was right behind her, Nam saw his blade in the corner of her eye.

But the thing about planar portals is that it’s incredibly hard to say where exactly they lead to. And this time, this one, ended up not in, created by mages and ancient architects of Hale’Teralas, demiplane of Lost City of Misty Towers, but on a top of another hill. Cowered with alive, green forest and overlooking too familiar looking coast.

Namrevlis turned to view of disappearing outline of a magic portal that few second ago was part of the giant rock. And no sign of her elven partner, except for the broken halfway through blade of a longsword, lying in the grass, magic runes slowly fading away.


End file.
